


be honest

by ocean_clown



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Let Them Talk, post 3x05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24163852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocean_clown/pseuds/ocean_clown
Summary: "I thought you said I didn't know what love was, anyway.""Do you?""Yes," Villanelle stated, her voice louder. "It's when- it's when you smile after you find your lost baby in the trash."orVillanelle breaks into Eve's apartment because that's what she does. Eve doesn't lose her temper because she's tired. They talk because that's what they need to do.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 30
Kudos: 302





	be honest

**Author's Note:**

> just a little something, hope you enjoy

It was past eleven when Eve came back from Bitter Pill. She felt something was different the second she set a foot in the hallway of the apartment's building. There was something in the air, a scent she wasn't accustomed to. She dragged her feet to the door, fumbling to get the right key. She let her bag slide off her arm until it fell at her feet. She tried to turn the key in the lock three times, but something blocked it.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Something was definitely wrong. The door opened when she turned the knob.  The thought that she might have forgotten to lock it was  quickly  discarded when she saw Villanelle in the middle of the room. She was standing close to the table, strumming her fingers on the back of a chair, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

Eve's bag ended up on the floor again, this time more  abruptly.

Villanelle’s outfit was simple compared to the outrageous clothes she usually pulled off. A striped blazer over what seemed to be tank top, black pants, black boots. Something about her was different too. The playful gleam in her eyes had  been replaced by  something softer and angrier at the same time. Her makeup had faded and  barely  hid the dark circles under her eyes. She looked tired. Eve wondered if she was as exhausted as she was.

"Worked late?"

Eve sighed and took her parka off.

"Nothing gets past you, huh?"

Villanelle smiled. Eve turned her back to her to hang the parka on the coat rack.  When she heard something liquid  being poured  into cups, Eve realized that the strong scent didn’t  solely  come from the assassin’s perfume but also from the smell of coffee. Villanelle  carefully  set a black and white mug in front of a chair, moving her hand to ask Eve to sit down. As if it wasn't her apartment, her kitchen, and _her_ chair.

They sat down in front of each other.  Eve studied Villanelle’s face while the latter played with the steam floating above her cup of coffee.

"What happened to you?" Villanelle furrowed her brows. "You don't look... as you usually do."

It was the best way Eve could phrase it.

"I was in Russia."

"What for?"

"It's personal."

Eve raised her eyebrows and hummed, knowing Villanelle would talk  eventually. She took a sip of coffee, burning, and  weirdly  comforting.

"I went to see my family."

"How did it go?"

If Villanelle's presence was any sign, Eve already knew the answer. The assassin's clenched jaw reinforced her feeling.

"They didn't accept me," Villanelle finally let out. "For who I am."

"No shit."

Villanelle leaned back in the chair. The muscles in her face tightened even more, and she  slightly  squinted her eyes. She  was hurt.

"Just  like you. With your husband."

Eve's knuckles turned white around the mug.

"You don't get to talk about him."

"Then you don’t get to talk to me like this," Villanelle retorted.

They stared at each other until Villanelle continued, "But he didn't accept you. Not  really."

Eve stayed silent, letting Villanelle's words make their way into her mind.  Maybe  she wasn't completely wrong. But it was not a conversation she was ready to have. Not right now.

"He loved me."

"Which _you_ did he love?"

This time Eve didn't reply. She toyed with the spoon in the mug, stirring the coffee even though she had no milk or sugar in it. She drank almost the entire cup, waiting for Villanelle to speak.

"I’ll never have that. A family who loves me."

"Why are you so obsessed with that anyway?" Eve leaned closer towards Villanelle. She didn’t understand the blonde’s sudden interest. "Family, love, acceptance…"

"I want to know what it feels like. I want to know what makes you love someone so much that you would sacrifice yourself for them."

"God, not _everything_ has to do with death," Eve groaned, standing up in a hasty move. She walked to the sink.

Villanelle scrunched up her nose and tilted her head. "Kinda does."

Eve let the water run in the sink.  She squeezed dish soap on the mug, realizing it was way too much when she picked it up and it slipped from her grip, hitting the dirty plate underneath. It broke into five large pieces, leaving a deep enough cut on her finger.

"Fuck."

Villanelle asked her if she  was hurt  right away. Eve wasn’t sure how to feel about the genuine concern in her voice. She lifted her valid hand,  silently  ordering Villanelle not to move while she cleaned the cut.

"It's a choice, you know," Eve  suddenly  said, her hand under cold water and Jamie's words printed in her brain. "It's all about choices. _Love_ is a choice. Fuck, even- even family is," she added with a sour laugh. "It's hard work and messy and painful. You have to-"

"Would you chose me?" Villanelle cut her off.

Eve frowned, surprised by the question. "What?"

Villanelle waited for an answer. Eve stuttered, looking for the right words. 

"Be honest. You know, at the AA meetings, they said-"

"I read the briefings too."

She wouldn't have Villanelle, out of all people, tell her that " _honesty is the best policy"_ twice in the span of six months.

"So would you?"

Eve rubbed her temples.

"You realize that you left me for dead, right?"

"I  was hurt," Villanelle replied in a high-pitched voice, as if it was a good reason to leave someone to bleed to death.

"You don't shoot people you love because you're hurt."

"I thought you said I didn't know what love was, anyway."

"Do you?"

"Yes," Villanelle asserted, her voice louder.

She held Eve’s challenging, yet curious, gaze.

"It's when- it's when you smile after you find your lost baby in the trash."

Eve shook her head. She didn't even want to know what this was about.

"It’s when you find your family and even though you hate it, you pretend to like their stupid card games because it makes them happy. It's listening to Elton John."

The more trivial it got, the more Eve's face softened.  Villanelle was looking around the place, thinking about other ways to show her understanding of love. Eve smiled. It was  strangely  endearing.

"It's trying to bake even when you’re terrible at it and bus cakes are _ really _ hard to make." Eve’s eyes widened but she stayed quiet. "It's when you admit you were wrong and apologize." Villanelle’s voice dropped; she  was done  with her list.

Peaceful silence invaded the room. The assassin  patiently  waited for Eve to look at her. When their eyes finally met, she swallowed.

"I shouldn’t have shot you in Rome. I’m sorry."

Villanelle nodded and  confidently  whispered to herself, "I’m good at this".

Eve had rarely - if ever - seen her so open and honest. It only felt right to give her something in return, to try to meet her halfway.

"I’m sorry about the bus."

Villanelle shot her a playful smile. "I’m not."

"Don’t start," Eve warned, pointing a finger at her.

Villanelle took her most innocent look but she couldn't help herself and had to whisper, "I am not a fan of surprises but this one was nice ."

Eve rolled her eyes and the sound of the wooden chair scraping the floor resonated when Villanelle stood up to  carefully  set her empty mug in the sink.

She pushed her hands deep inside her pants pockets and walked towards Eve’s bed. Her eye caught a glimpse of something pink half-hidden behind a bag of unpacked groceries.  She couldn’t hide the smile that stretched her lips when she realized it was the teddy bear from her last trip to London. Sure, it  was ripped  apart, but Eve had kept it.

She picked it up, holding it to her chest and sat down on the floor, her back against the bed. Villanelle played with the pink threads coming out of the teddy bear.  She thought about her brothers, about Konstantin, about Dasha, about the weird meeting with the woman from the Twelve. She couldn't put her finger on it  just  yet, but she had an odd feeling about all this that made her feel uneasy.

Eve joined Villanelle after letting her deep into her thoughts for a good minute. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the  slightly  disheveled blonde head.

"Something is wrong, Eve."

The older woman  genuinely  laughed for the first time in what felt like months. 

"You would've made a good detective. Great instincts."

Villanelle frowned, offended. "I'm serious."

"I know," Eve chuckled. "I know."

She felt it too. That odd feeling that something bad and bigger than them was about to happen. Everything was wrong.

"I'm sorry about Mustache."

Eve didn't react at the nickname when she heard the sincerity that filled Villanelle's voice. 

"I'm sorry about your family."

They fell into a comfortable silence as if they had found a shelter in this small apartment. Villanelle leaned against Eve's leg, her temple resting on her knee.  The touch she was craving finally came when Eve's knuckles  softly  brushed her hair and she let out a sigh of contempt, shutting her eyes close. Neither of them talked or moved, except for Eve's hand. Until Villanelle asked out of the blue:

"Do you believe in soulmates, Eve?"

Eve  tightly  wrapped a strand of blonde hair around her finger, the blood coming out of the cut giving it a deep red hue.

"No."

**Author's Note:**

> the last 3 sentences are literally just me being obsessed with the whole "red thread of fate" theme this season


End file.
